


Fire

by KrazyKaitie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: All the time, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobtale, Alternate Universe - UnderMafia, Blood, Forever, Gangsters, Gaster is also a sassy shit, Gaster is the exact opposite of a cinnamon roll, Guns, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader has female parts, Reader has no defined gender, Slow Burn, Swearing, Undermafia, Violence, WE ARE JUMPING STRAIGHT INTO THE ACTION, and snarky remarks, as well as reader, boy if you thought the other fic was a slow burn just you wait, going to be so much sass between these two, just a tiny hint, like quite a bit of swearing, mafia, mafiatale, paps is just precious, reader has a bit of a potty mouth, reader uses fake names, sans is also pretty sassy but he's more of a flirt than anything, there is just, there is probably to definitely going to be future smut, what can i say i'm a slut for the 1930s, with a hint of sass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7816663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrazyKaitie/pseuds/KrazyKaitie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The streets are your home, you know it better than anyone claims to in this city. You life consists of lying, cheating, stealing, and hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It’s a good life, if you ignore the fact that one of the most powerful families in Ebott City is after you. Maybe you shouldn’t try to steal from their casinos. Or Bars. Or from any of their businesses, really. But at the same time, it’s just too much fun. And it’s not like they’ll ever catch you.</p><p>At least until the leader of said powerful family comes to pay you a visit one moonlit night. It would have been romantic if he had brought candles, maybe a few cocktails, and a nice steak dinner. </p><p>Oh, and if you didn’t hate his nonexistent guts, but those are minor details.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CURRENTLY ON HIATUS</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna chat, message me on my [tumblr!](http://krazy-kaitie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5V2JI5AmUc) and other reasons. :)))
> 
> Hi my name's Kaitie and I have no self control over how many fics I wanna post and look after. Believe it or not I already have like three other Undertale fics I'm planning out *lays down* there is no saving me now.
> 
> But yes! If you read my other fic [That Would Be Enough](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7352299/chapters/16700446), you will notice that I put it on hiatus for the time being. As explained in the ends notes of the most recent chapter of that fic, I just need a break from it for now, because the chapters are getting harder to write. So for the time being, I'll be working on this..... sass and snark-filled fic right here. It's such a stark contrast compared to the other one, this is gonna be great.

Night was the time for those who liked to drown their sorrows in a bottle. Night was the time for those sad sacks to waste their money on futile attempts to win more. Night was the time for everyone to be drunk, relaxed, with no worries.

It was the perfect time for the liars, the cheats, and the thieves to come out and play.

But of course, only amateurs would actually reveal themselves to the streetlights during their little heists. Skulking from one end of the neighborhood to the other, hands stuffed deep into pockets, shoulders hunched and looking overly suspicious. Those were generally the ones that got caught the very next day after completing their job.

Or lurking just at the edge of an alleyway with a sad excuse for a knife, waiting for an unsuspecting couple to hand over their valuables.

You swing your leg back and forth, watching that very scene go down. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you click your tongue, “oh, honey… they have barely anything good on them. It’ll last you a week, two at most.” You tilt your head, watching the thief disappear into the alley. Well, at least they got _that_ part right. Some of them just run in the opposite direction in the light.

Amateurs, the lot of them.

You stand and stretch. Your back pops in several places, the sound music to your ears. You bend down to stretch your legs, your arms. You shake your hands this way and that, then your feet. Shake it all off, it’s time to get to business. You sling your empty---but soon to be full---rucksack over your shoulder and secure your mask onto your head.

You slide down the fire escape, jumping off at the last second and landing with nary a sound into the alleyway. You’ll really have to make sure to give Tailor extra for all he’s done for you. Maybe you’ll keep a few extra bills on the side for him and yourself. Your client will never notice, it’s not like any of them have before.

Pulling the small slip of paper out of your pocket, you look at the address, then look behind you. On Lotus Street right by The Jade Rose rested The Sting, your target. In fact, you stood in the alley right between the two buildings.

One could say you knew this place _too_ well, but you like to put is as you just being well versed with your targets. Definitely not because this place belonged to one of the most powerful families in Ebott City. Nah, they just had a _lot_ of money stored in the vault on certain nights. Tonight being one of them. The fact that they belonged to _that_ family was just a bonus.

Okay, enough stalling. You knew your job, you knew your escape routes, time to get to work. You tear the tiny piece of paper into even smaller pieces and step deeper into the alley. You peek around the corner. To your left rested a giant dumpster, to your right stood two bouncers leading to your destination. Monster bouncers, one a fish, the other looking to be a deer---no, a buck, you see the antlers now. They were having a conversation, they didn’t notice you yet. You pull your head back into the darkness and slip your mask on.

Showtime.

You whistle loudly and wait. You hear a pair of footsteps, you smell the heavy stench of cigarettes. You bend your knees, waiting, waiting.

The first one that turns the corner is definitely going to regret it in the morning. The fish monster---the poor bastard---is the first one that turns towards you. You grab the collar of their coat and yank them closer to you, ramming your knee into their stomach. They gasp, and you reel your fist back, socking him square in the jaw. Then you grab the back of their head and slam it into the wall for good measure.

You jump back as the buck nearly impales you with his antlers. He snorts, stepping over his friend and looking ready to charge you again. You spread your feet and lift your hands, bracing yourself. He lowers his antlers and charges you. You grab at his horns, stopping him just before he hit you in the stomach. You yank his head to one side, and slam him into the ground. Your fist connects with his face once, twice, thrice. Blood is pouring from his mouth by the time you stop. You check both ends of the alley. No one heard the ruckus, good.

You drag the two unconscious monsters by some trash cans and dump a few bags onto them. No one should notice the buck’s antlers in this light, and no one will notice them unless they literally trip on their feet. Not to mention, they shouldn’t wake for a little while on their own. More than enough time for you to get in, grab the goods, and get out.

Nodding at your work, you slip around the corner and head towards the back door to The Sting. Keeping your back flush against the wall, you knock twice on the door and wait. Nothing. You crack it open and wait again. Nothing. Finally, you peek through. Empty. You step inside, quietly shutting the door behind you. You squint at the ground, seeing the faintest, faintest hint of a blue glow.

A trap. And if you were to guess right, it belonged to the _last_ people you wanted to run into here. Oh, that’s just _perfect_ . Did your client set you up? Well, if he did, you’ll just have to have a little _chat_ with him after this. You’re not going to run with your tail between your legs and nothing to take home just because of some setup for your capture, hell no. They haven’t succeeded yet and they won’t succeed now.

You slip through the back, avoiding traps with little problem. You don’t see as many people back here as you thought. In fact, there’s _no one_ in the back. But that’s probably because _they_ told those poor saps to avoid this section for the time being because of the traps. You wondered where they were. It’d certainly make your life a lot easier.

You step over yet _another_ trap, then stop. Wait…

What if _they_ were in the vault?

No. No way they’d be waiting for you there. But at the same time… it _would_ make sense to hide there. It’s the only reason why you’re here, afterall. You frown, gritting your teeth. Those cheeky little shits think they’re being clever, trying to trick you like this. Get you with your hand in the cookie jar---or in this case, inside the vault. Well, you ain’t falling for that same old song and dance routine.

You’re not getting captured by those assholes, but you’re not leaving empty handed either.

So you continue on, heading down the stairs, avoiding traps and still keeping an eye out for anyone that could be hiding. You find no one, which you should be grateful for. But when you have a certain family how to get you, it just makes you feel more tense. Even with that in mind, you keep going. You had one more turn to make, one more, and you would’ve been there, you were doing so well!

Where the _fuck_ did that surprise trap come from?!

You stepped on it and jumped back right before the bone could have slammed you into the ceiling. That seemed to cause a chain reaction, because now more bones are shooting up from the ground. Then you start hearing a ruckus coming from the direction of the vault, you whip your head around and run. You dive into a room you passed on your way in and shut the door as quickly and quietly as you could.

It’s a simple room. Looks like it belongs to a bouncer of the casino or… someone that worked here. You quickly search the room, finding a small closet you can just barely squeeze into. By the stars, what is this? Your first fucking heist? This is ridiculous. You should’ve been paying more attention to the stupid traps. Dammit!

Despite the situation, you remain calm. Your breathing stays quiet, even, your heart beating quicker than it should, but it’s not pounding in your ears at least. You wait, quietly, patiently. You can’t let a stray sound give you away.

That’s when you hear footsteps. Voices. “Sans, check that room! They could’ve managed to hide in there before the path got blocked off.” You’d recognize that loud, angry voice anywhere. Undyne was here too tonight? You grin. That just made things a lot more interesting.

“sure thing.” There’s Sans.

“I WILL ENSURE THEY DO NOT TRY TO ESCAPE THROUGH THE BACK!” And there’s Papyrus. Of course. That guy _loved_ his traps. You don’t hear any other voices. It must be just those three this time, unless others are remaining quiet so they can surprise you. Not like that hasn’t happened before.

You hear more footsteps fading, then silence. Had you not been listening so intently, you wouldn’t have heard the quietest of taps in the room. Sans is here. You’re guessing he’s walking around the room. He has to know you’re in the closet---he _has_ to. There’s no other place for you to hide, the bed is too low to the ground and there’s nothing else big enough to keep you out of sight.

You hear him shuffling, then a _fssss_ sound. You hear him take a breath, and you smell smoke. Is he _seriously_ smoking a cigar right now? That cocky son of a bitch. You start smelling more smoke, and see a faint, blue glow through the bottom crack of the door. He knows you’re there. Is he trying to smoke you out or something? Wait for you to cough and give away your presence? Or for you to actually give up? You’d sooner die than give yourself up just like that.

You’re a patient person. You can wait it out.

Unfortunately, so is Sans.

He had to have gone through two cigars now, puffing out the smoke at the door. You know he has that shit-eating grin on his face and it only makes you want to burst through the door and punch him.

You were just about to do that when you hear the door being forcibly shoved open and stomping. “Where the _fuck_ could they have gone?!” You hear Undyne yell in frustration. “There’s no way they could’ve slipped through Papyrus’s traps and got away that quickly!”

“heh, dunno, undyne,” Sans chuckles, “they’re one **slippery fish** , eh?”

“I ain’t in the mood for your bad puns, boneboy. It’s bad enough we gotta try and bring ‘em in alive when all I wanna do is just impale ‘em a thousand times.” You raise a brow. They want you _alive?_ You’ll have to think more on that one later, when you’re not hiding in a very uncomfortable closet.

“eh, i wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much. hey, can ya check on paps for me real quick? gotta keep watchin’ the room.” There's a brief silence, then you hear Undyne scoff.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah. You ‘watch the room’, lazy ass.” You hear Sans chuckling again, then Undyne leaving. Silence ensues. The smell of smoke is stronger again.

Seconds turn the minutes. As soon as you hear Sans stomping out his cigar, the door to the closet is wrenched open. You react instantly, ramming your elbow into Sans’s. He grunts, dropping the cigar butt. You jump away and make a mad dash for the door. There’s a faint sizzle and _pop!_ and Sans is in front of you. You jump back, reaching behind you for your knife.

But Sans in quicker. He grabs your sleeve, his left eye blows a bright blue, and you feel like you’re falling down an elevator. He lets you go suddenly, and you fall to your knees, huffing. _Shit_ , where did he take you? You don’t have time for that. You get to your feet and take a step back.

“wouldn’t do that if i were you, kiddo,” Sans says, pulling out another cigar and lighting it. “don’t want ya **falling** for me, now.”

You don’t tear your eyes from Sans. You feel the wind whipping around you. You test behind you and feel the dip. Definitely on a high building. What to do now? Your hand inches slowly, slowly to your pocket.

“ _k i d d o._ ” You held back a shiver. If Sans was holding that tone with you, you knew he meant business. “ _i’d be careful of what i do next if i were you._ ” His grin is much more menacing, his hat tipped down to cover his right socket while the left started glowing blue again.

“‘s just us, y’know. no need for hostilities or anythin’. would _really_ hate to have to explain to th’ boss about any serious damage done to ya.” His eye stops glowing, he fixes his hat and winks at you. “ain’t really lookin’ to give anyone a bad time right now, y’hear?” When you say nothing, he chuckles. “what’s the matter, kiddo? _cat got your tongue?_ ”

He takes a step closer and you bend your knees, lowering yourself a fraction. Your hand darts behind you and you grip your knife. His grin widens. “oooh, someone’s ready for a fight. where’d ya learn that stance, kiddo? couldn’t have learned that from the streets.” He tilts his hat, staring at you intensely. “your stance is too ready, too calculated, to have learned that from these streets.”

 _None of your damn business,_ you want to say, but remain silent. If you talked, he’ll remember your voice. He’s no amateur, no senior member in his family was an amateur. You won’t let another simple slip screw you over tonight.

“no need to give me the **cold shoulder** , kiddo. just tryna **chill** an’ have a friendly chat with ya. ain’t really **ice** of ya, not respondin’ to me ‘n everythin, but that’s **snow** problem for me.” Stars above, you wanted to kick his teeth in. Not for the puns, but for that stupid fucking grin he had.

You grit your teeth and whip out your knife, twirling it between your fingers and gripping it tightly. Sans’s right socket blacked out, the left glowing a bright blue. “well, this took a **sharp** turn.” He stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets. To the average eye, he looks relaxed, but you see how his feet are positioned, how his shoulders are more hunched than usual. He’s ready to dodge any attack you have for him. “why so on **edge** , kiddo? just tryna take a **stab** at havin’ a friendly chat with ya.”

 _Friendly chat my ass_. You scoff.

“still nothin’? after almost a year of knowin’ each other you’d think we would’ve made it to first base by now.” He shrugs. Okay, _that’s it._ “ah well. i can understand my charming good looks being too much for you to form the right words---” he jumps back, very easily dodging the swing from your knife.

You attack to incapacitate, to get him to back off. Not to kill, _never_ to kill. You swing your knife at his chest and he slides to the side. You aim a punch for his skull and he ducks. He doesn’t even start attacking back until you’re both at the center of the roof.

You roll to the side, narrowly dodging a blast from his little pet. It’s your turn to start dodging, backing up. Sans is relentless in his attacks, sending bones and ‘Blasters after you. He’s tried more than once to get that mask off of your face, but you’re _just_ quick enough to move out of the way and keep it securely in place.

He’s yet to try his blue magic on you, though. And that bothers you. Usually he jumps at the opportunity to try and catch you in it. Maybe he actually learned from last time, but then again, he’s got one thick skull. You don’t notice at first, but after avoiding another bone attack, you realize he’s holding back.

You don’t have time to think about that as you hit the edge of the roof again. The attacks stop. Four ‘Blasters hover behind Sans while he tosses a bone club into the air and catches it. “as great a dance partner as you are, i’m sure you’re tired of the same ol’ routine.” He adjusts his hat, his grin widening. “hows about you make things easier for the both of us, yeah? the boss only wants to talk, ya know.”

Talk. Right. Maybe then he’ll also forgive you for all the casinos and stores you stole from that belong to him. Oh, or better yet, he’ll take you out on a nice little date, candles and all. You scoff, louder this time. Like _that’ll_ ever happen.

Sans hears your scoff and lets out a snort, “finally laughin’ at my jokes? looks like we officially made the beginning steps to first base.” He winks.

_You wish, boneboy._

“c’mon now, kiddo.” He offers a hand to you. “don’t ya think enough is enough? you gotta be gettin’ tired of all this, yeah? stars know i am.” He chuckles. “then again, i just hate doin’ too much work.” He looks at you, and you can see it written all over his face. Whether you come willingly---which will _never_ happen---or not, you’re going with him. Which isn’t going to happen either, not while you still breathe.

“let’s get goin’, kiddo. ain’t nowhere else to run. ain't no more escape routes for you to use.” Too bad for him, there’s _always_ an escape route if you're creative enough. And you were _very_ creative. You stand up straight and put away your knife. You pull two small pellets out of your back pouch and place your clenched hands at your side. Sans’s grin widens. He thinks you’re surrendering, that’s adorable. “heh, knew ya had it in ya, kiddo.”

The ‘Blasters disappear, as does his bone club, and he steps closer to you. Right when he’s just two arm lengths away, you throw the pellets at his feet. The area is enveloped by a thick cloud of smoke. You pull out your ever faithful grappling hook and step back, right off the building. You throw your grappling hook up as you fall, and it hooks itself until the ledge of the roof.

You stop falling. You run along the side of the building, towards the one next to it---an apartment complex. The smoke can distract Sans for only so long, you don't have time to waste. As you get closer to the other building, you feel yourself losing support from your grappling hook. Shit, shit, _shit._ You let go of the rope and use all your strength to push off the building to get to the next. You find your grip on a windowsill and start quickly climbing down, down into the dark alley.

Once you’re low enough, you jump off and roll into the ground. As soon as you’re on your feet, you run into the maze of the alleyways, your grappling hook forgotten. As much as you don’t want to leave it, it’s more dangerous to go back and get it. Sans might be waiting for you. So you run and run, jotting down a mental note to ask Tinker for a new grappling hook later.

…

…

…

Sans rolls up the rope and looks over your special little tool. It’s so beaten up and old, you must’ve been using this thing for a _long_ time. He can understand having sentimental value over an old item. He reaches up and adjusts his hat. Thing’s been through a lot.

Getting back to the task at hand, he looks down into the darkness. You’re long gone now, he knows that. But that’s fine. The boss might not be happy at first, but oh… he’ll be _overjoyed_ when he sees what Sans brings home. His grin widens, and he tips his hat, his left eye glowing a faint blue. Might as well get back to Papyrus and Undyne. No doubt they’re going to be unhappy about his disappearance.

‘Unhappy’ being an understatement. As soon as he appeared before his brother and partner, Papyrus grabbed him by the shoulders and shakes him until his bones start rattling. “SANS! WHERE DID YOU GO?! YOU’VE BEEN GONE OVER THE TIME LIMIT FOR ME TO NOT WORRY FOR YOU!”

Ah, shit. He didn’t think _that_ much time had passed. “sorry, bro. had a little run in with our friend.”

“Well, how’d it go? Where are they?”

“seein’ as they’re not with me, where do ya think, undyne?”

Undyne’s face fell into a glare. “I was _hoping_ you’d tell me they were with Mr. G. _Excuse me_ for getting my hopes up.” She pulls back to cross her arms. “Thought we were finally done with this stupid wild goose chase.”

“YOU’RE EXCUSED, UNDYNE.” Papyrus pats her shoulder, then looks at Sans. He hones in on the grappling hook slung over his shoulder. “SANS, WHAT IS THAT?”

“oh, this?” He grins, showing off the tool. “this is our ticket to finding the little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell, our dear Reader has a wonderful relationship with Sans. Can't wait to see their relationship with everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna chat, message me on my [tumblr!](http://krazy-kaitie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You have a chat with your client and a friend.
> 
> Meanwhile, Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne report to the boss.

You slam your client---no. He’s not your client. He’s a no good backstabbing son of a _bitch_ \---against the wall. You still had your mask on, but you didn’t need to show your face for him to know you were _pissed the hell off_.

“You wanna tell me why you decided to try and give me away to the Void Family?” You ask through clenched teeth. “Or do you just want me to break every bone in your _fucking body right now?_ ”

“L---Listen, I was just doing what I was told and---”

Your grip on his collar tightens. Wrong answer. “Oh, just doing what you were told? If I told you to go kill a child and had enough money to pay you, would you do it?”

“The hell is wrong with you?! I wouldn’t do that!”

“But you were told to do it.” You lean in closer. “You follow every order given to you if there’s enough long green, don’t you?”

“Don’t _you?_ ” The man retorts. Oh, you didn’t like that smug little grin he had. You ram your knee into his stomach and let him fall to the ground.

“Unlike _you_ , I ain’t no fuckin’ dip that’s eager to please the highest bidder.” You reach down to grab a fistful of his hair. You reel your fist back and connect it with his jaw. Blood and teeth fly out of his mouth. He coughs and spits and looks at you as you plant your foot on his lower back. “You think you’re _fucking clever?_ Tryna trick me and get me caught? Thought the money was worth it? Well, guess what---” you kneel down, close to his face “--- _it wasn’t_.”

You grab the man by the back of his collar and lift him up, slamming him into the wall. “You think the Void Family is bad with torture? Sweetheart, when I’m through with you…” You lean in closer and whisper right by his ear, “You’re gonna _wish_ they were the ones that were hurtin’ you.”

…

…

…

Sans, Undyne, and Papyrus stand in the middle of their boss’s office. Their shoulders are rolled back back, head held up high. At least, Papyrus and Undyne held that posture. Sans just slouches, hands in his pockets, little white lights following his pacing boss. He’s been doing that for about… five minutes now.

A nasty habit that was, pacing. But what can you do? In a situation like this, it’s only natural to walk back and forth in one place.

“careful, boss. keep walkin’ that one path and you’ll make a little hole there,” Sans teases.

Gaster stops and turns to the three of them. He’s good at keeping his composure, but Sans can feel his soul flaring with annoyance. The lights in his sockets are dim, flickering, threatening to go out. He’s not happy. And Sans’s little quip didn’t help, but it was worth a try.

 **[Tell me, Sans…]** He starts, sitting in his large chair and lacing his gloved fingers, sights honed in on the skeleton in question. **[You had them in your grasp. All you had to do was ensure they made it** **_here---_** **to** **_me_** **\---safely. And yet… they still manage to slip from your grasp.]** He stares long and hard at Sans and Sans just stares back. **[Tell me** **_how_ ** **that works, exactly.]**

“well, boss,” Sans shrugs, “gonna be honest with ya, didn’t expect ‘em to go and jump off a buildin’ like that.” He tilts his head, his grin not faltering for a second despite the harsh glare from his boss.

Gaster’s sockets close. He breathes slowly through his nasal bone. The flaring annoyance and anger from his soul calms. He opens his sockets again and looks over Sans’s face. **[My dear boy, you should know by now that they will do** **_anything_ ** **to escape being caged.]**

“i’ll admit, i got a little cocky back there.” Sans tilts his head the other way and fixes his hat. “but hey… i may not have our favorite little bird, but i got the next best thing.”

Gaster was unable to hide the skeptical look, white lights darting to the rope on Sans’s shoulder again. He’s been eyeing it since they entered the room. A hint of curiosity shown in those eye-lights of his, but he kept his composure. His gaze snaps back to Sans’s face, and he waves for the skeleton to continue.

He steps forward, shrugging off the grappling hook on his shoulder and carefully laying it before his boss. Gaster stares at it as Sans backs off. His eye-lights flicker and brighten. He tenderly picks up the contraption and looks it over. Then he looks at Sans. **[My dear boy… does this belong to who I think it does?]**

“it _might_ belong to a certain bird that _may_ have dropped it during their escape.” The lights in his sockets couldn’t get any brighter. Sans sensed the excitement Gaster held. Oh, this was gonna be good. The two skeletons share a knowing smile, then Gaster looks at Undyne.

 **[Undyne.]** She stands at attention. **[Be a dear and ask Asgore if he could spare me one of his men. Perhaps Dogamy or Dogaressa. Both would be nice, but if he can spare only one, that is fine.]** His smile grows, his soul practically oozing with joy.

Undyne shows off her teeth in a big grin. “Sure thing, Mr. G.” She bows low, turns on her heel, and leaves.

**[Papyrus, my boy, could you inform our dear Mary that I need to see her as soon as she is free?]**

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus bows. He steals a glance at Sans, then he leaves too.

 **[And Sans…]** Gaster gives Sans his full attention. **[Do what you do best, my boy.]**

Sans’s grin couldn’t get any bigger. “you know it, boss.” He tips his hat and winks. “anythin’ else you want me to do before i head out?”

 **[If you spot them before our dear dog friends to. Be sure to** **_bring them to me_ ** **this time, not play with them.]**

“but i was gettin’ so close to first base, boss,” Sans chuckles, “i think i finally managed to make them laugh at my **rib-ticklers**.”

The lights in Gaster’s sockets brighten and he laughs, the sound echoing throughout the room. **[My dear boy, you’ll have plenty of time to tell them your** **_humerus_ ** **jokes once I am done… speaking with them.]**

…

…

…

Well, tonight fucking _sucked._ Let’s review: First, your job ended up being a set-up for your capture. Second, you nearly got caught in one of the traps because you decided not to pay attention for that split second. Third, _Sans_ almost fucking caught you. And the final straw? You lost your grappling hook. Your oldest friend.

Call it stupid sentimental value over something old and a little rusted but it’s been through a lot with you. A hell of a lot… You shake your head, willing the thoughts, the memories, away. Now’s not the time to be sad, now’s the time to be pissed. Your favorite tool is now in the hands of Sans---

…

Oh shit… Oh shit, shit, _shit_. Your pace quickens. You yank off your mask and break into a run through the alleys. You take twists and turns, vaulting over garbage and ducking through holes in fences, running deeper, deeper into town. You don’t slow down even as you almost run into several drunk or homeless individuals. The sooner you can get your scent out of your clothes the better.

You end up at a small townhouse and kneel down at the back door, whipping out your lockpicking kit. Within seconds you have the lock undone and the door swings open. You step inside and shut the door behind you, setting the lock back in place.

“Tailor!” You call, tossing your rucksack to the side and pulling off your coat. “Tailor! I need you!”

“By the _stars_ , Hummingbird---” Tailor, an owl monster, steps around the corner “---do you have any idea what time it---goodness!” He stops and turns his head away, covering his face with his arms as his feathers puff out. “Warn me when you’re stripping!”

“I need you to get the smell out of these, now. And to set up anything else you got within a ten yard radius around your home that can rid this area of my scent,” you say, throwing your clothes to him. Since he was much too busy with shielding his eyes, a few flop to the floor as he fumbles to catch them and not steal a glance at your naked body.

You grab one of the many perfume bottles he had scattered about the room and start spraying yourself for good measure. Call it paranoid, but now is the perfect time to be paranoid. Tailor, bless his soul, gathers up your clothes with the utmost delicacy while ensuring he doesn’t get a single peek at you.

He gestures for you to follow and guides you around the corner and up a set of stairs. “You know where the restroom is. Go shower. I shall light an incense stick or two and open a few windows.”

You step down the hall and enter the restroom. You turn the water on and step in. You don’t care if it’s not warm enough yet, you just need to wash yourself _now_. You hear the _clack, clack_ of Tailor’s talons on the hardwood coming towards you. He goes into the room across from the one you’re in and you hear him say, “So what happened, Hummingbird? You’ve _never_ been this paranoid about how you smell.”

“I lost my grappling hook,” you say, lathering your hair with shampoo. You start scrubbing the dirt and grime and smell off yourself. Scrubbing and scrubbing your skin raw. You _won’t_ risk the Family finding your friends. Should you visit Tinker and Soap too? No, that’s too risky. You don’t know how good those dogs of Asgore’s can sniff out scents, and you don’t want to find out. But you trust Tinker and Soap. With all the shit they do, your scent is no doubt covered by everything else.

You hear Tailor ask, “To whom?”

“The Void Family.”

You hear a slight clamor, you’re sure he nearly tripped over himself at that. “Are you _serious?_ ”

“If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t be here scrubbing my skin to the bone and asking you to get the smell out of my clothes, Tailor.”

“Fair enough.” You hear him coming towards the restroom. “Do you want me to inform Tinker and Soap? I’m sure with the things they do and the many other smells they have… they should be safe.”

“Please, inform them when you can. I’d rather be paranoid than think they’ll be fine and then they get caught in the middle of this shitstorm that just formed.” You grip the soap in your hands tightly. You can’t _believe_ you didn’t go back for your grappling hook. You should have gone back for it! Dammit!

“Don’t blame yourself for this, Hummingbird.” Tailor’s talon-fingers quietly clicked against the door. “Even the best make mistakes. Accept them and it’ll be easier to move on.”

You purse your lips. Yes, even someone as good as you make mistakes, but your mistakes will cost the lives and safety of those you care most about. You couldn’t, you _can’t_ afford to make mistakes again… never again. But here you are, one less grappling hook. And now the Void Family has a lead on where you’re hiding, who your friends are.

All because you made a damn mistake.

You grip the soap so tightly it slips from your fingers and clatters to the floor. Fucking---you snatch it back up and keep scrubbing yourself. You don’t respond to Tailor, you just finish cleaning yourself and shut off the water. You step out and grab the towel, burying your face in it. Stars above, you wanted to scream, but knowing how late it was, it would only cause trouble. So instead you groan and sigh. “Got a sheet or somethin’ for me, Tailor?”

“A moment, please.” You hear him walking away, then return not long after. The door cracks open and he holds out a dress for you. You take it, your hand lingering on his for a moment in a silent thanks, then carefully lay it on the toilet. You finish drying off and slip into the dress. It’s a blue dress that hugs your waist, shows off your arms, and stops a bit above your ankles. Simple, but comfy.

“Tailor, bless you for always having something for me when I get here.” You step out of the room to smile at him. “I was _going_ to get you something special tonight on my job, but _they_ decided you weren’t deserving of it.”

Tailor laughs, his chest puffing out proudly. He guides you down the hall towards the small kitchen and sits you down at the table. “Knowing that you’re more than satisfied with my clothes for you is enough for me.” He steps into the kitchen and starts brewing a pot of tea for the two of you.

“And they’re _perfect_ , Tailor, as always. Especially your boots.” You lean back in the chair, smiling at him. “Makes climbing a hell of alot easier.”

“But of course! They have the perfect amount of grip on them and are more silent than a mouse. The leather straps help a lot more than one would think.” He turns to you as the water begins to boil. “It will take me about a day or so to get the smell out of your clothes. During that time, I would _highly_ recommend you light incense in your safehouses. The magical ones I have. They can easily rid the area of anyone and anything’s scent by the end of the day. I have plenty you can take and use for your safehouses.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to sniff out my stuff?”

“Depends on when they start.” Tailor pours two cups of tea and strolls over to you, placing the cup in front of you. He sits across from you. “Those dog monsters are good, _very_ good, at sniffing out things, people, you name it. But it’s a big city, it’ll take time. And as I said, Hummingbird, it depends on when they start, where they start, and how many dog monsters the Dreemurr Family will give to assist the Void Family.”

You sip your tea, glancing off to the side and enjoying the smell of the incense. Tailor speaks again, “I’m sure that---even though they want to catch you---they will not attempt to cause a scene. They’ll possibly send out two dogs to sniff you out, three at most. If that’s the case it’ll take possibly four, maybe five days to find most your safehouses. Maybe three if they truly rush it. But by the second day, they will be unable to follow the trail to a good handful of your safehouses if you start tonight.”

You groan, rubbing your face. Tonight’s going to be a _long_ night. You can deal with losing a few safehouses, but there were certain ones you _couldn’t_ lose. Too much important stuff for you to move in such a short amount of time. Especially one specific safehouse… you jot down a mental note to ensure you start with that one. You’ll get all your other important ones after that. For the time being, you both sit in silence, drinking tea, listening to the sounds of the nightlife outside.

You mull over what you overheard Undyne saying while you were in the closet. They wanted you alive… but why? You were pretty sure they _kinda_ wanted you on the dead side at this point after all you’ve done. Stealing from one of the most powerful families in Ebott City and repeatedly escaping their capture tends to do that. But now… you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to why they wanted you alive---

Then the answer hits you just as quickly as the curiosity did. If they wanted you alive, they no doubt just wanted you working for them. Of fucking _course_ , you should’ve seen it sooner. That’s why Papyrus’s traps never did too much damage to you if you got hit with one. That’s why Undyne always aimed for your damn legs. That’s why fucking _Sans_ was being so careful with his attacks on the rooftop. To incapacitate you, to take you to their big bad boss.

Well, they can certainly fucking _try_.

“Careful, Hummingbird. Keep making that face and it’ll get stuck that way,” Tailor’s voice tears you from your thoughts.

You look at your friend and smile. “Sorry, just brooding, the usual.”

“A bad pass time to have, you know.” He finishes his tea and stands. “I’m sure you want to get started on disappearing as quickly as possible. I would recommend avoiding your niches for the next few days as well.” He holds up a talon, then steps away while you finish your tea.

Tailor returns, placing a small bag full of incense sticks in front of you. “These should be more than enough. Don’t get  _too_ paranoid now, Hummingbird. I know you can.” He pats your shoulder. “I have spare clothes you can use to get around faster while yours get de-scented. Sadly, your boots must remain here as well.”

You stand up. “You don’t have another pair for me to use? At least ones that have a little bit of grip on them?”

“I believe I do… one moment.” He vanishes again and you look at the incense sticks, gripping them tightly. You were just… so _angry_ at yourself for this. You should’ve gone back to get your grappling hook. _Fuck_ Sans. Fuck the fact you would’ve been caught had you gone back. Sure, you’re free from their grasp, but now the safety of the little friends you have are being threatened again… And you were doing so well this time around.

Tailor returns with proper clothes for running around the city at night. Dark brown slacks, a dark gray button-up shirt, a black vest, and another pair of boots. They’re a size bigger and don’t have as much grip or the leather straps as your original pair, but it’ll do during this time of emergency. He even flusteredly handed you new undergarments. He whirls around as you shamelessly start changing into the new clothes without finding a more private spot. He only turns back around when you ensure that you’re not showing off anything he doesn’t want to see.

You take the bag of incense sticks and heave a sigh. “What a fucking mess…” You mutter. Tailor places a taloned hand on your shoulder.

“Remember, it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself, Hummingbird.” He pulls you into a one armed hug. You frown, returning the hug. Yeah, easy for him to say. You can’t blame him though. He doesn’t know. No one does, you plan to keep it that way for as long as you live. “I’ll inform Tinker and Soap of what’s going on. Try to avoid them---and me---for at least three days, alright? Avoid your niches for at least four days, too. Be careful during this time, Hummingbird. You will be at your most vulnerable.”

“Okay…” That’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t hidden in broad daylight before. But you know you might run into Sans or Papyrus or another one of their little lackeys looking for you. They don’t know your face or your voice, which is good, but you know they’ll be looking for someone who’s on edge, acting like someone’s looking for them. You won’t give yourself away that easily, you’re not some newly made thief who doesn’t know how to hide. You’ve done this for years.

You look at Tailor and poke at his beak. “ _You_ be careful, too, you hear me?”

He chuckled, “When am I not?” He walks you to the back door. “Stay safe, stay alert, stay _hidden._ ”

“The shadows are my friend, the light is my enemy.” You grin. “I’ve been doin’ this for a long time, Tailor. You know this.” You slip past the door and stop. Your grip tightens on the doorknob. Turning to Tailor, you say, “I’ll be back in three days.”

“Three days. That’s a promise, Hummingbird. And your time limit before I start worrying.” You smile. You know that by the start of the fourth day he’ll start worrying, he’s not lying about that, but the familiarity of the words… the routine of it… it’s comforting. You may have only known Tailor for a few years---three, at most, definitely not as long as Tinker or Soap---but you value his safety, his words, his company, just as much as your other friends.

You nod, shut the door, and turn away. You take a deep breath and start shaking out your hands and feet. Shake it off, shake all of it off. You’ve got a lot of work to do and stiff muscles won’t do. Once you’re done, you start jogging through the alleys.

It’s going to be a long,  _long_ night of trying to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest with you, Tailor wasn't supposed to be a thing. But when I was in the middle of writing the scene with Gaster, I thought "wanna know what's cool? an owl monster. fuck it there's an owl monster now and his nickname is Tailor." so ya know. He's a thing now.
> 
> OC's for days man. You can't stop me.  
> And this is only skimming the surface of how many there are in this damn fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna chat, message me on my [tumblr!](http://krazy-kaitie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> We get to meet some of Sans's friends, and you get a nice surprise.

Gaster shuts the door after Mary steps out. Such a sweet girl, and a hard worker. He’ll have to get her something as thanks for all she’s done. Perhaps get her some new knitting needles. Hmm, if he remembered correctly, she had mentioned the other day she was running out of yarn. He knows that girl won’t ask anyone else—not even Scout—to get it for her, the poor, shy little thing. He’ll be sure to get her more after this little bird problem is dealt with accordingly.

Right now, however, he would not mind a nice cup of gin. He summons a pair of ghostly skeletal hands to fetch what he needs while he sits in his large, plush chair. Resting his elbows on his desk, he rubs at his temporal bone, exhaling sharping through his nasal bone.

Nearly a year… nearly a _bloody year_ after you decide to play this game of cat and mouse with him and now he _finally_ has something solid to go off of. It would’ve been better if Sans decided not to play his own little game with you, but this will have to do. You’re not going to last a week in hiding, Gaster swears this.

And if he has to be the one to come out and _drag_ you back to his lovely little home, then _so be it_.

Gaster sips the gin, enjoying the feel it had on his bones. Not as good as the concoctions Grillby or the twins could mix up, but it’s good enough for now. He stares at the clear liquid, mulling over his thoughts.

Even after all these months, he still cannot fathom how in the world someone like you could last so long on your own. At least, he’s been led to believe that was the case. As far as he—and anyone else in this city—knew, you worked alone. There’s no record Mary or any of his other informants or even _Asgore’s_ informants could find about any other families that have someone with the nickname ‘Hummingbird’ working for them. No known connections, it’s unknown if you work for anyone, or who you get your supplies from.

It was the same song and dance with every single person that hired you that he had a… _chat_ with. They knew how to contact you, the rules to hiring you, but that’s it. Of course, he’s tried using your system against you before. And it’s quite obvious how that turned out. Sure, they had the element of surprise the first few times, but somehow—some- _fucking-_ how—you still manage to escape.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Gaster’s grip on the cup tightens. There’s _no way_ you didn’t work for someone in the past. No one that grew up on the streets were as good as you. No one that grew up on the streets knew how to outsmart and outrun someone from a Family. No… you learned your moves from someone. Be it someone from a different Family or _something_ , he knows you’re not just the average street rat. Only a complete and utter moron would think otherwise.

He sighs. Of course, he could always ask for more help from Asgore. Stars know that man has made it perfectly clear to Gaster. But no, he knows Asgore has his own things to worry about. Gaster is more than fine with handling this on his own. He finishes his drink, refills the cup, and sips it. He glances off to the side, idly scanning his office.

You’re _too good._ He’s not even overstating it. He has _never_ seen someone with as much skill in the art of stealth, acrobatics, and escaping as you. And those were just the top layer of the cake. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t curious about the other skills you had. That didn’t even scratch the surface of the questions he had about you.

How could someone so good live this long without being caught by the other Families? Where did you learn your skills? Who supplied you? How is it that you practically don’t exist?

He wants those answers, and he wants you to not longer be a thorn in his side, and—oh… _oh_ , he has an idea. He’ll have to wait to get a report from Dogamy, Dogaressa, Papyrus, and Sans, but that’s fine. The lights in his sockets brighten and shine, his lips curl into a smile.

**[My sweet little bird… you will not remain hidden from me for long.]**

…

…

…

You felt like complete _shit._ You were cranky, your limbs were stiffer than they should be, you ran out of coffee in your apartment, and you fell asleep paranoid. The _worst_ way to fall asleep. But at least your most important safehouses have the incense burning in them and should be safe.

Although the cost of ensuring your safehouses were secure was losing quite a bit of sleep. It’s not like you weren’t used to it, you just _hate_ losing sleep.You weren’t a morning person in any sense of the word, and getting anything less than nine hours of sleep might as well be a death sentence.

Although by the time you finished lighting incense in all your more important safehouses, you finally crashed at your apartment, on the couch, too exhausted and tired to even get to your bed. All the adrenaline had worn off, you couldn’t be bothered to move, despite the state of your overly suspicious mind.

You slept horribly, plagued by dreams of memories long locked away, or possible future outcomes that had you waking in a cold sweat, fear and anger gripping at your soul. And when you realized it was only a trick of the mind, you’d begrudgingly go back to sleep. This happened several times throughout the night, something you’re _not_ happy about. Maybe you could ask someone downtown about getting some sort of sleeping drug that ensured you’d be able to rest without dreaming of things you’d rather forget.

But here you are. Awake. With the memories haunting the corners of your mind. You _really_ wishing you had the energy and desire to find your ex-client to beat the shit out of him again. At least so you could vent some of this pent up aggression and to get your mind off of things.

And merely remembering that you pretty much can’t do anything for at least _four days_ just adds to your horrid mood. You huff, pulling off your clothes as you walk through the tiny apartment towards your shower. A nice, hot shower should help. You turn it on and look at yourself through the mirror. Dark circles are forming under your eyes and you looked ready to kill someone. Hell, you _felt_ ready to kill someone.

Rubbing at your eyes, you look over your features again. You grip at the sink, eyes scanning the scar across your chin. You frown, fingers grazing the healed skin. If only you’d been more careful… Shaking your head, you glance at the scar on your eyebrow. You make a face. Sure, back in the day you were proud of that thing and your stupid chin scar, showing them off and telling obscure stories of how you got it. Though the true way you got the one on your eyebrow is… incredibly stupid and embarrassing. The story behind the other scar was just as stupid, but more… dangerous than embarrassing.

Shaking those thoughts away, you step into the shower and let out a happy groan. Stars above, it felt like heaven. You start washing out your hair and scrubbing your body clean, letting your thoughts wander.

Just look on the bright side. Don’t think of it as being unable to do your job for four days, think of it as a vacation. Yeah, a vacation. Sure, you’ll need to find something to do during the night—casinos are a _definite_ no. They were never your thing—but you’re okay with wandering during the day. There’s certain parts of the city you haven’t been to in a while, it wouldn’t hurt to see them. Maybe you could even do some reading. Stars know you have more books than you can count that you’ve yet to read.

Yeah… it’s just a vacation… and everything will be fine. You won’t be found out. Tinker, Soap, and Tailor will be safe. Once this blows over, you can go back to your life of thievery and survival.

You step out of the shower, feeling _much_ better than you did when you stepped in. Heading into your room, you rummage through the small closet and find a nice dress to wear. Made of dark silk that hugged your form and showed off _plenty_ of your clavicle and cleavage, while also by lace starting from your neck going down. The sleeves stopped above your elbows, and the rest flared out past your waist.

You make sure to hide your gun and knife away, then you style your hair and make sure your makeup is just right to hide the scars and dark circles under your eyes. Slipping into a nice pair of shoes, you step outside and begin the first day of your… vacation.

Your… forced… vacation.

You shake your head again. Stop thinking like that. It’ll be fine. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. You can do this.

…

…

…

Sans tips his hat as he approaches _“Papyrus’s Positively Perfect Pasta”_. His brother wouldn’t be working today, of course, he’s out doing whatever the boss told him to do. But that’s not the reason why he was here. He steps inside, waving and greeting the regulars who say hello to him. He pats humans and monsters alike on the shoulder and shoots a couple a wink, making his way to the bar on the other side of the little establishment.

Quinn turns to Sans and sets down a glass she was cleaning. “Look what the half-dead, drunk cat dragged in.” She smiles, leaning against the counter. “The hell you doin’ here, Sans? You know Paps ain’t workin’ today and I ain’t as nice as Grillby is about your little tab.”

“c’mon quinny, throw me a **bone** here.” Sans takes a seat and rests his chin in his hand. “you know i’m broke.” He tilts his head, giving her a dreamy smile _any_ person would fall for.

Unless you were Quinn. Completely unaffected by his smile, she leans closer to whisper, “Broke my _ass_ , boneboy.” But she’s grinning all the same, her white teeth a stark contrast compared to her dark skin. She pulls back and grabs a bottle of ketchup, placing it in front of him. “You get two bottles for free. You want anythin’ else? Either go to Grillby’s or pay for it here.”

“you’re always so kind to me, quinny.” He takes the bottle, taking a large swig of it. “i may not have anything green on me, but i _do_ have something else if you’re willin’.” Sans waggles his bone-brows at her, to which she rolls her eyes.

“Drop dead, Sans. You know that ain’t gonna fly with me.” And it never will. Sans knows this, but it’s fun watching her reactions. She was one of the rare few that didn’t get flustered over his rather flirtatious comments. And it’s not like he’d ever do anything past chaste kisses on the cheek or hand holding without her consent. He ain’t like that.

She greets some new customers and gestures for a waitress to go get their order. Then her attention is back on Sans. “What’s the low down, boneboy? Been a minute since I had to see your filthy mug.” She glances off to the side, brushing dark braids behind her ear, then taps her earlobe three times, _Safe to talk_. Then she looks back at him.

“quinny, darlin’, you know i wouldn’t leave home without bathin’. i’m a gentle-skeleton with standards.” Sans nurses the bottle of ketchup in front of him, not making eye contact with her first. He then looks at her and closes one eye, index finger flattening against his mandible, close to his toothy grin. His finger taps his teeth once, _It’s a secret._

Quinn raises a brow, making a face at him that only makes his grin widen. She returns the smile. Then she holds up a finger and steps off to the side as someone calls her name. Sans watches closely behind a tipped hat. More so the customers than her.

He knows she can handle her customers, and hardly any… _incidents_ happen, but it never hurts to keep an eye out for a friend. You never know when someone needs to be put in their place when they like to question why ‘someone like Quinn’ is working here.

But he sees her chat them up, smiling and toying with her hair. And when Sans sees them smiling back, their souls relaxed and friendly, he knows there’s not going to be any trouble. Quinn turns away from and yells at Antony in the kitchen the men’s orders. She says something else to the men, winks, and returns to Sans.

Good, nothing happened this time.

_This time._

“got some admirers, quinny? i thought we had somethin’ special.” Sans leans back and places a hand against his chest in mock hurt, to which she rolls her eyes.

“Not even in your wildest dreams, boneboy.” Quinn smirks, then walks towards the kitchen doors when Antony called her.

Sans sips at his ketchup and glances off to the side. He sees a couple of human women at the other end of the bar staring at them—more so at _Quinn_ as she vanishes into the kitchen. They’re whispering something to each other. With Quinn busy, Sans takes that opportunity to listen in on the… lovely little ladies.

“Does the owner of this place know what’s working for them?” One young woman asked.

Sans’s grip on the ketchup bottle tightened. His grin became more strained, eye-lights dimming. He let out a breathless chuckle. Maybe he spoke too soon a minute ago.

“The owner is some monster by the name of Papyrus. I heard he was a great cook and the food here was good.” The woman’s nose scrunches up. “But I didn’t think he’d had one of… _those_ people working for him.”

“I didn’t think so either. Why in the world would he hire a—”

Oh _hell_ no. Sans’s grin widens, eye-lights flickering out. In the blink of an eye he’s behind them, hands in his pockets. He leans closer to them. “‘s there a problem here, ladies?”

The two turn to him. His hat remains tipped down over his sockets, which are nothing more than black pools now, but he makes sure they can see his grin. Wide, menacing, anything _but_ welcoming. They shift uncomfortably, glancing to each other, then looking back at him.

“Obviously. The owner of this place is letting some—”

“ _i’d watch what you say around me, sweetheart._ ” Sans’s voice drops, he tips his hat up, his grin widening when he sees them tense. “wouldn’t want any _accidents_ happenin’.”

The woman who spoke immediately shuts her mouth and tries to glare, but is clearly too scared to put any true effort behind it. Heh, right, how dare he threaten them. Well, how dare _they_ talk about Quinn in such a way. He tilts his head, waiting for one of them to say something.

The other woman speaks up, “Why in the world is this ‘Papyrus’ fellow allowing… someone like _her_ … to work here?”

“maybe because she’s a hard worker and is good at what she does.” Sans fixes his hat so it covers his right eye. “my brother has a knack for findin’ good, hard workers, y’know.”

“B—Brother?”

“sorry, sweetheart, did i stutter?” Sans chuckles. “yeah, my _brother_ , papyrus. owner o’ this lovely establishment. now, listen here… quinny over there is the best damn worker i’ve ever seen. you got a problem with how she looks?” His left socket started glowing a faint blue. “ _you’re more than welcome to take it up with me_ . but for the meantime, if this is how you’re gonna talk about my _friend_ , then i’m gonna have to ask you… _lovely ladies_ to leave. and trust me, if paps were here, he wouldn’t be as nice about askin’ you to leave.”

The two women stiffen. They look at each other, at Sans, then start gathering their things, muttering things under his their breath. “Fine, we didn’t want to eat here anyway.”

“Not while one of _those_ works here.”

“one of those _what_ , ladies?” Sans leans closer. “i’m still here, y’know. you itchin’ for a bad time?”

They stop their muttering. They don’t even answer him, they just grab their things and leave. Neither of them even leave a tip. How rude.

The lights in his sockets return and he fixes his hat. He takes his seat again and looks up, lazily smiling at Quinn who looked _less_ than pleased with him. She has a hand on her hip, the other on the counter, her nails going _tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap_ against the wood.

“Sans…” She sighs, “seriously, that wasn’t necessary.”

“yeah, it was,” he interjects, grabbing his ketchup bottle. “you know that if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been paps.” He glances up at her. “ain’t gonna tolerate that shit. not towards you, not towards _anyone_.”

Another sigh leaves her. She leans against the counter, reaching over and tapping his hand. “I appreciate it, Sans, but it’s nothin’ I can’t handle. Trust me, I’ve been called worse.”

“and paps ‘n i are gonna make sure you ain’t gonna get called worse.” He turns his hand over to grip hers. His confident, charming demeanor fell into something more calm, gentle, even a bit tired. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze, murmuring, “whether you like it or not, we got yer back, quinny.”

She smiles, squeezing his hand and then pulling away when his grip slackens. “Should know better than to argue about this kinda thing with you, hmm?” She rests her chin in her hand. “Now… how’s everything at home? Know you still got a bit of a…” She pauses, looking like she wanted to say one thing _,_ but instead says, “pest problem.”

Sans chuckles, falling back into his relaxed grin returning. “heh, believe it or not, we’re takin’ care o’ that right now.” He finishes off the ketchup bottle and slides it to her. She takes it, placing it under the counter and offers him a second one. He grabs the bottle, letting his fingers linger on hers for a moment as he winks. Another roll of the eyes and she shakes her head, then gestures for him to continue.

“they left a… _present_ for us, and now we’re on our way to weedin’ ‘em out o’ the house.” He gulps down a quarter of the bottle as she’s called off again. He waits patiently, watching her and the other customers at the bar, until she returns. “give ‘em about a week until they’re forced to come out.”

“That’s good. Can be hard havin’ pests around. What’s your plan after you weed ‘em out?”

“eh, gonna leave that up to someone else less lazy than me.” He takes another swig of the bottle. Quinn knows what he means by that. Gaster will take care of it himself, as he loves to do.

“Should I be keepin’ an eye out for any pests that try to come in here?” She rests an elbow on the counter, her other hand on her hip. “Pests tend to make business hard.”

“they sure do.” Sans leans closer, gesturing with a single finger for her to come closer too. He whispers into her ear, “you know birds don’t do well when they can’t fly.” He glances off to the side and turns his head, pressing his teeth to her ear. Then he murmurs, “by the third day they might be fidgety, on edge. keep an eye out for those kinda people.”

Sans pulls back, giving her a sly grin while she rubs her ear. She reaches over, flicking his forehead. “I’ll keep an eye out for any pests, don’t worry.” She gives him a forced smile. “Kiss me again, however, and you’re losing a few teeth.”

“always so cruel,” He chuckles. He finishes the second bottle and hands it to her, tipping his hat. “i should go see how the lil’ spitfire is doin’. you know how impatient she can get.”

“Don’t I know it.” Quinn places the empty bottle under the counter. “By the way, let M know we’re gonna need a new singer.”

“last one not work out?”

“If by ‘not work out’ you mean he decided to cop a feel to my workers _and me_? Then yes.”

“oh really?” There’s a dangerous shine in those lights. He tilts his hat, grinning at Quinn. “and where is this _fine gentleman_ now?” His voice dips down an octave, a hint of blue appearing in his left socket.

“Watch yourself, boneboy.” Quinn leans forward towards Sans. “Remember where you are.” Then she says, “I took care of it. He ain’t comin’ back, and if he does, you know I can handle it. Just let M know I ain’t pickin’ random people off the streets anymore unless they’re approved by him first.”

“consider it done, quinny.” Sans bows low, placing his hat over his chest, then stands up and neatly places it back on his head. “see ya ‘round, sweetheart.” He gives her a wide grin and leaves the restaurant after waving farewell to a few patrons.

He walks down the streets, hat tipped halfway over his sockets, hands stuff into his pockets. He walks by stores and people, greeting the few that acknowledged him and grinning at those that just stared. He stops by a hot dog cart and purchases two, then continues on his way, deeper into the city, where the fountains were.

He approaches one little girl with dark auburn hair tied into pigtails, blue ribbons ensuring her hair doesn’t come loose. She swings her legs back and forth, clad in a pink dress with white polka dots. Green eyes, sharper than one would expect from an eleven year old (“going on _twelve_ ,” she would always say) spotted him. Freckled cheeks puffed out and dark brows knitted down, clearly unhappy with Sans.

Stephanie crosses her arms, puffing out her chest and turns her head away from him as he sits next to her. “You’re _late_ ,” she huffs, ignoring the hotdog he offers to her. “You better have a good excuse, Mister Boneman.”

“heh, sorry kiddo, no excuses. just hotdogs.” He waves it around by her. She glances to it, then looks off to the side again. Two seconds pass and she reaches over, snatching the hotdog from his hand, letting out a loud ‘humpf’.

She takes a bite from the hotdog and watches people pass by. “What _took_ you?”

“talkin’ to quinny about a few things.” Sans slouches over, resting his ulna on his femur and watches too. He doesn’t eat the hotdog in his other hand, much more content to just let it sit there. “we may have found a way to cage the bird giving us trouble.”

“Mmm,” Stephanie hums, swinging her legs this way and that. “And what do you want _me_ to do about that, huh?”

He shoots her a big grin, taking his hat off to place it on her head. “what you do best, squirt.”

She pushes the hat too big for her up out of her eyes and takes another bite from her hotdog. He notices how her legs are swinging faster and she’s shifting around in her spot, biting back a smile.

Sans’s smile couldn’t get any wider. He leans over and says, “i can tell you’re excited about this.”

Her nose scrunches up and she elbows him in the shoulder. “I’m excited about jack-diddly.” She devours the last of the hotdog and hops to her feet. She brushes off her dress and turns to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“you’re seven, you’re excited about everything,” He retorts, offering her the other hotdog.

“Plus five!”

“plus _four_. nice try, kiddo.” Sans just winks at her glare, waving the hotdog in front of her until she snatches it from his hand. She turns away, head held high and she lets out another breathful huff. Sans stands as well, plucking the hat off her head to place it back on his skull.

He places his hand on her shoulder. “stephie.” She looks up at him. “remember, if you find _anything_ —”

“Immediately tell you or another senior member.” She brushes his hand off her shoulder. “I _know_ , Mister Boneman. I’m not an _amateur_.”

“heh, true.” He rests his radius on her head. “but you’re still _far_ from a professional, kiddo.” He reaches over to flick at her pigtail and she slaps at his hand. Sans laughs and backs off, tipping his hat to her. “stay safe, lil’ spitfire.” Then he turns and starts walking away.

…

…

…

Okay, first day over. It wasn’t so bad. Now it’s time for the second, and after tomorrow you can go see Tinker and Soap and Tailor again. One day at a time, you can do this.

You heave a sigh as you step out of the shower and dry yourself off. You slip into a pair of slacks and pull on a button-up and vest. You secure the tie around your neck and ensure your weapons are well concealed before making your way outside.

Today you decide to head to Grillby’s—a nice little speakeasy hidden away downtown. Sure, it was owned and protected by _that_ Family, but that’s not going to stop you. Just because they owned a good portion of the casinos, speakeasies, and the like doesn’t mean you can’t visit them during your time off.

Besides, Grillby was one hell of a barman. You’ve yet to meet another person that can craft drinks like him. And Grillby himself was a nice guy. You’ve spoken to him on more than one occasion and if it weren’t for the fact that he was with _that_ Family, you would’ve considered him a friend you could trust. But alas, it can’t be. Though you’re more than content with calling him a buddy of yours.

You enter Grillby’s, smiling at the few monsters and humans that greeted you. You sit at the bar, lacing your fingers and resting your chin on them whilst crossing your legs. Grillby was busy, but nods to you to confirm that he sees you. You spin around in your stool, leaning back against the counter and resting your elbows on it. You listen to the music, watching the young man on the stage sing a song about blessing you for being an angel.

You smile. He had a really nice voice. Your foot slowly swings along with the song, your head swaying this way and that. Then you feel a warm hand touch your shoulder. You turn around, giving the man made of blue fire your best smile. “Grillby,” you say smoothly, “it’s been too long. Can you forgive me for not coming to see my favorite man of fire in a while?”

He chuckles, the fire on his head cackling. He nods, pressing a hand to his chest and half-bowing to you. He then gestures to the shelves of liquor behind him. You tap at your chin, humming. “Surprise me, I’m in the mood for anything.” You wave your hand and watch him nod again, then turn away and grab a few bottles and an empty glass.

You watch him open a compartment specifically for ice and he scoops some into the cup. Then he pours in a clear liquid—you notice after tilting your head at the bottle that it’s vodka. Nice choice. He puts the vodka away, grabs another bottle of red liquid, and pours that into the drink as well. Grillby then takes a half lime and a small bottle. He squeezes the lime into the drink, then places a few drops of the mystery liquid into it. The liquid starts to emit a faint glow. As a final touch, he grabs a lime slice and sticks that to the edge of the glass.

He uses a straw to gently stir in the mixture, then slides it to you, gesturing to you and then bowing. You give him a light applause and take the drink, winking. You sip the glowing liquid and immediately you’re met with a mixture of warmth and coolness at the same time. The drink easily slides down your throat and leaves a wonderful aftertaste. “Mmm, Grillby, I just might have to steal you away one day,” you giggle, “have you make drinks only for me.”

Grillby’s fire grows, he adjusts his glasses and bows his head to you in thanks. He makes a small gesture to the establishment. You trail your finger along the edge of your drink, watching the people talk and laugh and listen to the soothing voice of the young man on stage. “True, this place would be in shambles without you.” You sigh dramatically, resting your cheek in your hand. “Fine, you win this round, fireman.” Grillby chuckles in response, then points to your drink and steps away to some patrons that called his name.

You stay that way, sipping your drink and observing the little speakeasy. You find your muscles relaxing, your shoulders slumping. You should come back tomorrow, maybe chat up a few of the patrons. Visiting the speakeasy owned by your number one enemy and getting cozy with some of the people that work here? Now _that’s_ a way to spend your vacation.

A series of cheers and yells erupted throughout the speakeasy, causing you to jump and nearly spill your drink. You look at the entrance and your face falls into a grimace. Oh, this is just _fucking_ perfect.

“Sans! Good ta see ya again, boneboy!” A patron claps their hand on Sans’s shoulder, letting loose a hearty laugh. “Where th’ hell ya been?”

“eh, around.” Sans shrugs and winks at them. “napping’s an important part o’ my day. i would nap here, but you know how it is. you’ll end up seein’ me pantslesscuz someone’ll steal ‘em.”

“I know I wouldn’t mind seein’ that!” Another patron yells. A series of laughs and whistles echoes throughout the establishment.

Sans tips his hat, his grin widening. Within seconds, the lights in his sockets hone in on you. And now he’s walking towards you, fuck, fuck, _fuck_. You’ve done so well ensuring you never ran into Sans here (or anywhere, for that matter). He wasn’t supposed to be here today. You should leave—no, no. If you leave now it’ll be suspicious. Sans isn’t an idiot, as much as he loves to play off as one. Besides, you’ve played this game before. There’s no reason you should be feeling this way.

You spin around in your seat as Sans takes his place next to you. Grillby approaches, bowing his head to him. “hey grillbz. the usual, if you will.” A nod, then seconds later Sans is presented with a red drink. It’s different from yours, this one glowing a bright red and, after a quick touch from Grillby, the ring around the cup is set aflame. Nodding in thanks, Sans takes the cup and looks at you. He lifts his cup in a silent offering and you smile, taking your half-finished drink and tapping the glass against his.

Without breaking eye-contact, he blows out the fire and sips at the concoction as you sip your own drink. The white lights in his sockets turn red, and his bones started emitting a faint, red glow to match. It’s even glowing beneath his clothes! Yes, you were staring. You couldn’t believe it. You loved the drinks Grillby made, magical and non-magical and yet you’ve never tried this one? That’s simply blasphemous.

Your eyes dart from his hands back to his eyes as the magic wears off and they go back to normal. He’s grinning wide at your expression, bone-brows raised, waiting for a reaction. You remind yourself that Sans doesn’t know who you are. You’re not wearing your usual mask and attire, you’re safe. You’ve done this before to people like him, he’s no different. You smile and say, “Goodness… now _that_ is a drink.” You sip at yours. “I’m ashamed to say I’ve never had that before, even after all my times coming here.”

Sans chuckles, resting his elbow on the counter. “and you call yourself a fan of grillby’s? i gotta say, i’m offended _for_ him.” He slowly looks you over, the lights in his sockets brightening. “don’t think i’ve seen someone as _lovely_ as you ‘round here, however.”

“Sadly, I don’t think our schedules mix up.” You lean against the counter, finishing the last of your drink. “You _must_ be a very busy man, after all, with your fancy suit and everything.”

“heh, this old thing? it’s a miracle it ain’t in tatters.” He taps his index finger against the counter. “may i be blessed with the enchanting human’s name?”

“Flattery won’t get you into these pants, boneboy,” you say, waving at Grillby when he looks your way. “And besides, I’m _way_ out of your league.”

Sans laughs a hearty laugh at that, which honestly surprises you. You’ve only ever heard him chuckle and laugh little ones, nothing like this. You notice his posture changing, relaxing. Whether he’s confident that nothing’s going to happen in here or he truly feels comfortable around you, you’re not sure. Though both of you relax, you feel a stiffness in your muscles. You’re still feeling that small twinge of panic. You can’t afford to slip up, not in front of Sans. One little mistake and he’ll know who you really are.

You look over at Grillby as he approaches and hand him your empty glass. Then you ask for the same drink Sans has. When Grillby steps away to make your drink, you notice Sans staring at you, waiting, grinning.

“Oh, you still expect my name, boneboy?” You rest your cheek in your hand, returning his smile. “And what do I get out of it?”

“whatever you want, sweetheart.” Sans winks, white lights and bones glowing red as he sips his drink. “‘n besides, you already know who i am. entire bar shouted it.”

You giggle and hum, “Mmm, true.” You tap at your chin, glancing off to the side. “How about you buy my drinks and then we can talk? Seems like a fair trade.”

“tryna bleed me dry here, sweetheart?” He tips his hat, glancing to Grillby as he hands you your drink. “put this lovely human’s drinks on my tab, will ya grillbz?”

Grillby glances at you and tilts his head, then shakes his head, heaving a sigh. You just smile at him, knowing what that look he gave you meant. You _could_ take advantage of this, but you shouldn’t. Getting drunk in front of Sans is a very bad idea, especially since you can be a rather… chatty drunk.

You bring the drink to your lips and lock eyes with Sans. You blow out the flames on the rim, take a sip of it, and you’re met with a warmth that can be only described as being embraced by fire without being burned. You notice Sans glancing down at your exposed forearms, and you follow his gaze. Your bones are glowing red. Bright enough to shine through the muscles and veins and skin. You look at Sans again. His sockets are wide, grin faltering a bit.

When he looks at you again, you just smile and raise a brow, taking another sip of your drink, causing your bones to glow brighter beneath your skin and—hot _damn_ you felt good and warm inside. “You know, it’s rude to stare,” you say, snapping him out of his trance.

Sans’s wide grin is quick to return. “i thought works of art were meant to be appreciated.”

You grin. “Only to those who deserve it.” You lean back against the counter, drink in hand, legs crossed. You notice Sans copying you, looking out to the speakeasy. Then you say, “Shirley.” You feel his gaze shifting to you.

“shirley,” he says, testing it out. A fake name, obviously. You’re not stupid enough to give your real name to him. He’s quiet for a short moment, listening to the soft tunes of the band on stage. Then he says, “a nice name for a nice human.” His bone-brows waggle at you. “allow me to properly introduce myself. th’ name’s sans. sans the skeleton.”

“A skeleton? Really? Could’a fooled me.” You hold your hand out to him, allowing him to grip it. His bones are warmer than you expected, but you suspect that’s from his drink. Sans chuckles, bringing your hand to his teeth. “You’re getting _awfully_ brave, Mr. Skeleton.”

“never found the fun in livin’ life bein’ careful.” He releases your hand and you place it on your knee.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” You notice him staring at you. His expression is unreadable, but you can tell he’s searching your face for something.

“so what brings you here… shirley?” The way his voice drops… how he pauses before he said the name… You feel like he knows it’s fake. Is he onto you? No, no, stop acting so paranoid. You’re fine, this is fine. You’re just another stranger to him. He’s _always_ watching people he’s never met before.

You hold your drink in one hand and trail your finger along the rim with your other. “The drinks and music isn’t enough? I need a purpose to come here?” You glance to Sans. “Why are _you_ here, hmm?”

“heh, got me there, kiddo.” He tips his hat, glancing your way, then back out to the speakeasy. “music’s great, drinks are greater, and the patrons just make it all worth it.”

“And if you’re lucky, you won’t wake up in an alley without your pants.” You sip at your drink again, basking in the warmth it gave you. It really helped relax your tense shoulders. Sans snickers next to you, but says nothing else.

You sit in silence with Sans while you listen to the band play their songs of happy, happy times. When that song finishes and they move onto the next, Sans starts talking to you again. He doesn’t ask many other questions aside from flirtatious ones, to which you immediately shoot him down with a kind smile that’s not kind at all. When flirting doesn’t do anything, he starts telling jokes.

Part of you hates to admit it, but he’s… he’s actually a really funny guy. He has you laughing in ten seconds flat with his jokes. And he has a big grin on his face. Not the smug kind that made you want to punch him either, a genuine smile. It makes you think, you’d probably be friends with him if it weren’t for the fact he’s with the Void Family—

Oh _fuck_ no. You shake that thought off right quick. Just because he’s making you laugh this one time doesn’t mean there’s a potential friendship. He’s attempted to capture and hurt you multiple times, and if they find your friends he won’t hesitate to hurt them too. No… he’s just like every other Family member. Ready and willing to hurt people to get what he wants.

By the time you finish your third drink, you decide to call it quits. While you don’t really feel the heaviness of the alcohol weighing you down _that_ much yet, you know Grillby’s drinks are always pretty strong. And if you have anymore you know you’ll be gone. So you sip a cup of water, nodding your head along with the song. When you finish your water, you say your farewells. Sans swiftly takes your hand in his, pressing it to his teeth.

“until we meet again, sweetheart.”

You grin, pulling your hand away. “Do that again and you’ll find yourself with a broken hand, Mr. Skeleton.” You waggle your fingers at him in a mock wave and stroll out of the speakeasy. You realize that you had been in there a lot longer than you thought. The sky is now a mixture of pinks and blues and oranges. Time flies when your enemy is making you laugh, you guess. Oh well. You take a deep breath and head uptown to your home.

Two days down, one to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love........ Quinn............... so much........................  
> She's just a minor character in this story but I love her to death.  
> And snarky little Stephie is just...... amazing.
> 
> And, of course, I love their relationship with Sans. It's the best.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna chat, message me on my [tumblr!](http://krazy-kaitie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Classes are royally kicking my ass just kill me.
> 
> Also Sans is a lot more observant than he lets on, and that a lot of people give him credit for.

Sans was just walking through the halls of his home, heading to his dearest boss’s office when he heard behind him, “SANS! THERE YOU ARE!” Papyrus catches up to his brother, matching his lazy, slow stride. “I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YOU! HAVE YOU BEEN DOING YOUR JOB OR HAVE YOU BEEN AT GRILLBY’S FLIRTING WITH PEOPLE AGAIN?”

“heh, you can read me like a book, bro.” Sans shrugs and winks at his brother. He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “i said hi to a few friends. quinny ‘n stephie, even the unholy trio. _snrk_ , you can imagine how happy chris was to see me.” His grin widens at the quiet chuckle Papyrus lets loose.

“CHRIS DISLIKES YOU, BROTHER. OF COURSE HE WAS UNHAPPY.”

“nah, chris loves me. the threats are all full of love.”

“WHATEVER YOU SAY, SANS.”

They walk in comfortable silence past a few doors. They both pause at one room to say hi to Mary, then continue. Then Sans says, “by the way bro, the singer at your place wasn’t very… likable amongst the other workers.”

“IS THAT SO?” Papyrus’s shoulders stiffened. “DID SOMETHING HAPPEN?”

“‘pparently he was a little too grabby for quinny’s liking. something i completely understand.” He adjusts his hat. “she got rid of him, but if you ain’t gonna do it, i’ll be headin’ over to m’s tonight to see if i can get a new singer for her.”

“I SEE, GOOD. I’M GLAD MISS QUINN WAS CAPABLE OF HANDLING THE RUDE YOUNG MAN ON HER OWN.” Papyrus rolls his shoulders back, holding his head high. He’s proud of his most valued worker being able to hold the fort while he was gone. He jots down a mental note to get something special for her to show his gratitude. “IS THAT ALL?”

“well… _apparently_ a few other customers had a little… problem with quinn the other day too.” His grin becomes more strained, eye-lights threatening to go out again. “i’m sure i don’t need to say why.”

“Is that so…” His voice dropped low, the tiniest hint of anger lingering in his tone. Anyone who doesn’t know Papyrus as well as Sans does would think him crazy for saying his little brother _can_ get violent. And he can, it just depends on the situation. Like right now. There was a more sinister look etched into his boney features, his hands were clenched more tightly. “Was that taken care of?”

“i made sure they wouldn’t come back, don’t worry, bro.” Sans reaches over to brush his hand against Papyrus’s. His clenched hands relax, and he reaches over to place it on his brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you, brother, for assisting her.”

“‘course, bro. now hey, where’ve you been?” He elbow’s Papyrus’s side. “haven’t seen you ‘round in the last few days either. did th’ boss have you run around town with the pups?”

“Yes! He asked me to assist with the search, just in case they did find Hummingbird so I may catch them with my blue magic!”

“considerin’ you said ‘did’ and no ‘do’, i take it the search didn’t go well?”

They stop in front of a large door. Papyrus leans down and murmurs, “We were about to report to Mr. G when he asked me to find you so you may report to him as well.” Then he stands up straight and knocks a rhythm against the dark wood. He and Sans stand there until the door is opened by a ghostly hand. It vanishes as soon as Sans and Papyrus step inside, Papyrus shutting the door behind them.

They both bow low when they take their place by Dogamy and Dogaressa. When Sans straightens himself, he tips his hat. “afternoon boss. dogamy, dogaressa.” He winks at the two dogs who nod at him.

 **[Now that you all are here…]** Gaster gestures to the two dog monsters. **[Would you be so kind to tell me what you found?]**

“Well…” Dogamy starts, “we only managed to find several of their safehouses—”

“—but there was nothing of importance there,” Dogaressa finishes. ““There was some food, water, essentials and the such with little money hidden away.” She frowns, shifting weight from one paw to the other.

Gaster leans back in his chair, lacing gloved fingers together. **[Could you not find anything of importance?]**

“Yes and… no, sir.” Dogamy glances to Papyrus.

“THEY HADN’T BEEN TO THOSE SAFEHOUSES IN A WHILE. HOWEVER…” Papyrus reaches into his coat and pulls out a small bag. He steps forward, placing it on Gaster’s desk. He steps back, allowing Gaster to pick up the bag and open it, peering inside.

 **[...Incense sticks?]** He pulls one out and looks it over, rolling it between his fingers. One was completely burned out, but it looks like another had run been extinguished, most likely by the wind or something else, seeing as it’s not wet.

“WE FOUND THESE BURNING IN ANOTHER SAFEHOUSE JUST YESTERDAY.”

“We had almost missed that one. In it we found—”

“—a few things of slightly more importance.”

“MOSTLY MONEY, BOOZE, AND AMMO. BUT THERE WERE SIGNS THAT THEY HAD BEEN THERE RECENTLY.”

“most likely to put those sticks in there,” Sans murmurs, stroking his mandible, eyeing the stick in Gaster’s hand closely. He’s already got a pretty good idea what those were.

“Sadly, most of the original smell we followed was already erased,” Dogaressa says.

“Whatever did have a smell to it wasn’t—” Dogamy stops. His nose twitches. “Wait…” He looks at Sans, stepping closer and sniffing him.

“i smell that good, dogamy? careful, you might make your wife jealous.”

“Sans… you smell like them.” Dogamy leans closer, pressing his nose to Sans’s coat and giving it a few sniffs. “Underneath the smoke and alcohol… it’s there. That’s them, I know it is.”

Gaster’s attention snapped to Sans in an instance. **[I told you that if you found them, to immediately bring them to me, Sans…]** His eye-lights flicker and dim. **[I hope you have a good reason for** **_not_ ** **doing as I said.]**

Sans fixes up his coat. “listen, boss. none of us have seen their face, just that lil’ mask of theirs. how could i have known it was them?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “and while i did find a rather… _interesting_ human… i ain’t a fan of pointin’ fingers when there’s a chance it ain’t our favorite bird.”

He pulls out a cigar and lights it. “you know i like to make sure before i grab ‘n bag. but it’s good to know it _is_ our little bird. had my suspicions since i couldn’t get a good read on ‘em. they were guarded, _very_ guarded. they were good at hidin’ it too… perhaps a little _too_ _good_ , if you get what i’m sayin’.”

 **[Oh, my dear boy, I understand** **_completely_ ** **what you are saying.]** There’s a dangerous shine in those sockets, behind that smile Gaster had. Like an excited kid in the candy shop. He looks at Dogamy and Dogaressa. **[Will you be able to follow that scent?]**

“Yes, sir. Even if it’s just the tiniest of trails—”

“—we’ll be able to follow it.”

 **[Good. I will be joining you in your little pursuit for our bird.]** He rests his elbows on the desk, half his face hidden behind his hands. There’s a dangerous shine in those eye-lights of his. Excitement, eagerness. He had a plan. And whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t going to fail this time.

**[In the meantime… Papyrus, I would like you and Sans to go to the safehouses you found and empty them out of all the money, booze, and ammo you find. I believe it is only fair that they return what they stole.]**

“OF COURSE, SIR.”

“consider it done, boss.”

**[Thank you. You are all dismissed. Dogamy, Dogaressa, if you both could wait for me by the front, I will meet you there soon.]**

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course, sir.”

The four monsters bow, turn, and exit the room. Finally alone, Gaster takes a closer look at the incense stick, sockets narrowing. He brings it closer to his nasal bone and sniffs it—there’s no scent. A bone-brow raises. He pulls a lighter and summons a skeletal hand to hold the stick. He lights the stick, waits for it to catch, then carefully blows out the flame.

He waits. Slowly but surely, the smell of liquor and cigarettes and cigars disappear in his office. His lips curl into a devilish smile. **[Ah… I see what you have done, little bird. Clever…]**

Magical incense sticks… erasing the smell within the area. Very clever indeed. Sadly that means the rest of your most important safehouses are lost to them now, but that doesn’t matter. They have a new lead. And if they were lucky, you won’t realize you just handed over your scent to them again.

He douses out the stick with a cup of water lingering on his desk, then stands up. It’s been some time since he decided to go on a little stroll. Some fresh air will be nice. And if he’s lucky… he’ll find a pretty little bird on that walk.

…

…

…

Today was the third day and you were feeling _antsy_. You had paced around your room for at least ten minutes debating whether or not you should go out and see your friends. You were safe, you were fine, you kept telling yourself. That one interaction with Sans won’t change anything. You run your fingers through your hair and groan and grab a book to flip through a few pages only to toss it aside.

Fuck it. Two and a half days is more than enough time. You were supposed to see Tinker and Soap right after Tailor but then this whole bullshit had to happen. And even before that it’s been at least two weeks since you last saw them. You were done waiting. You shower and dress yourself in a simple pair of slacks and a shirt, and make your way out, heading towards downtown.

You traverse through the downtown area of Ebott City, head high and shoulders back. Your hands were clenched to the point you had to shake them out every so often, but at least you weren’t painfully digging your nails into your palms. You end up at a house with black smoke coming out the chimney and a familiar pile of questionable garbage beside said house. You approach the front door and knock four times.

Three full seconds after you knock the door swings open and you’re embraced by several pairs of filthy arms. You see someone stepping around and hug you from behind, dirtying your clothes further.

“Birdie!” Soap laughs, nuzzling his soot-covered face into your hair.

You laugh, “Soap, c’mon! Just cuz you don’t bathe that often doesn’t mean you can get me filthy!”

“You ain’t gettin’ away that easy, birdie!”

“Tailor may have told us everything—” Tinker pulls back, a pair of hands coming up to cup your face “—but you know how we worry when we don’t hear from you, little bird.”

“I know, Tinker.” You lean in and place a kiss on his cheek. “But it’s all good now.”

“You sure about that? Tailor said three days and I know my math ain’t that great, but I’m pretty sure today’s the third day.”

“It’s _fine_ , Soap.” You smile. “Problem’s taken care of. Tomorrow I’ll see Tailor and everything will be back to normal.”

“Except you won’t have your grappling hook.” Your smile falls into a frown. Tinker just grins at you and grabs your hands. “Don’t make that face, little bird. Soap, love, cover their eyes for me.”

Soap’s dark hands cover your eyes and you’re carefully tugged into their home. You’re met with the familiar smell of oil and smoke and… cookies? You make a face, but let Tinker pull you along through their house. Then he stops and releases your hands. “Okay!” Soap removes his hands from your eyes and steps around you. He looks over Tinker’s shoulder, then glances to you and grins widely.

“Birdie, you’re gonna _love_ this.”

“I’m gettin’ nervous now, boys,” you laugh, hand on your hip. “What’re you hidin’ from me?”

“Well, we heard from Tailor about your grappling hook, of course,” Tinker explains, one of his many hands waving at you while he… tinkers with something in front of him. “And I’ve been working on this for a while anyhow, so I decided to finally finish it for you! Just gotta make a few quick adjustments… And…… there we go! Done!”

He turns to you, presenting you with… with something. It looked like a large bracelet with a claw on it. He places it in your hands, clapping his own and grinning widely at you. “It’s your new and improved grappling hook! Look, look, you put it on like this—it can go over your shirt too.” Tinker shows you how to attach the grappling hook onto your arm, securing it in place. “It’s a little finicky when you put it on at first, but it works like a dream!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that, birdie. We already tested that out _plenty_ of times,” Soap huffs, rubbing at his neck. You shoot him a look and he holds his hands up, laughing. “Hey now, it wasn’t nothin’ _that_ bad! Just a lot o’ fallin’ on my ass. But you ‘n I both know my ass can handle a _lot_.” He waggles his brows at the flustered Tinker and wraps his arms around him.

You look over the grappling hook, your lips curling up into a grin. “This is pretty damn snazzy, Tinker. Anythin’ else I should know about it?”

“Haha, yes… _ahem_ , thank you, little bird.” Tinker peels himself free from Soaps hold and pats at his cheeks with one pair of hands while the other grabs your arm. “Right here is where you can change what form it’s in. Right now it’s active and rather conspicuous, yes? But when you press this right here…” He shows you a button of sorts and presses it. The claw of the grappling hook collapses in on itself and flattens against your arm. “And voila! It’s inactive and looks like a fancy bracelet!” And he’s right. For the most part, at least.

“To anyone that doesn’t look too closely,” Soap jeers. Tinker smacks his arm and looks at you. You give him an apologetic smile. Soap’s right. To anyone who doesn’t look too closely, it does look like a big, fancy bracelet. But it’s not like you were going to wear it around town flaunting it.

“You can hide it under your coat, it’s small and thin enough to remain hidden without making your coat look bulky. And it’s strong enough to support your weight and pull you up while re-winding the rope! It’ll be much easier to pull out and use during the last minute, no?” Tinker claps his hands, grinning widely at you, waiting for your reaction.

You press the button again, watching the claw snapping into place. “This is amazin’ Tinker. I mean it when I say you _outdid yourself_.” You wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I owe you big time. Name it and it’s yours, man.”

Tinker laughs, his face flushing. Soap leans over to steal a kiss on his cheek, only making his lover’s face darken further. “Y—Yes, well… _AHEM!_ Thank you, little bird. You don’t need to get me anything. Knowing you’re safe and can come visit for tea is enough for me.”

“And cookies!” Soap puffs his chest out proudly. “I learned how to make cookies the other day and _didn’t_ set the house on fire again!”

You snort, “Seriously? Man, the shit I miss in two weeks. I hope these cookies are edible.”

“Of course they are! Birdie, you wound me, doubting me like this.” Soap puts a hand to his chest to feign being hurt. “But hey, you need more of those smoke bombs too, yeah? Don’t worry, I got you, birdie.” He disappears further into the house, coming back with a bag full of your favorite pellets. “There ya go, should last you ‘bout two months, maybe more if you’re more _careful_.”

You snatch the bag from his hand and shoot him a playful glare, but you’re biting back a smile. “So how about some tea and cookies? I’m sure I missed a lot in the three days I didn’t see you.”

“Birdie, you have _no idea!_ ”

You spend the rest of the day with Tinker and Soap, listening to the ideas they have for their new projects and offering what criticism you can. To your complete and utter shock (not really, you just loved teasing Soap), the cookies were delicious. The tea, as always, helped ease your nerves if only while you were with your friends. You stay and talk and talk with them until you notice the sun starting to go down.

Tinker and Soap notice you staring out the window. “You headin’ out to work? You sure it’s safe enough?” Tinker asks.

You frown. “No, not yet. I’ll collect from a few of my niches, but I won’t be working tonight. Tomorrow night for sure.”

“Alrighty, birdie. Just be careful, yeah?” Soap reaches across the table to pinch your cheek. “Don’t want you sleepin’ with the fishes or worse, y’hear?”

“I hear.” You slap his hand away with a smile. Finishing off your tea and grabbing one more cookie, you stand. “I’ll come back in three days for some more tea. And cookies.” You wink at Soap and his chest puffs out proudly.

“Three days, birdie.”

“That’s your time limit.” Tinker stands too and steps around the table to pull you into a six-armed hug. When he pulls away, Soap embraces you next, then they both walk you to the door. “Stay safe, little bird.”

“Same goes for you.” You step outside and start walking down the street.

…

…

…

Had you been paying attention, had you been just a bit more observant, you would’ve seen two dog monsters with a tall skeleton monster noticing you leave Tinker and Soaps house. They glance to each other, nod, then look at Gaster.

“It’s just the tiniest of hairs—”

“—but we can smell it. That’s them.”

Gaster’s eye-lights hone in on you, staring at your filthy clothes, looking over your dirty face. He grins. Perfect. And now he knows where your friends are too. He waves at Dogamy and Dogaressa. **[Return home for now. I will follow the little bird.]** And he’s gone.

He watches you closely, his fingers twitching in eagerness. Oh, he wants _so badly_ to just appear before you now. To snatch you away and lock you in a cage so you’re no longer a thorn in his side. But he waits. He’s always been naturally curious. He wants to observe you, see how you work, how you move. All the while he remained hidden in the shadows, just far enough to where you won’t find him, but you might get a lingering feeling that someone’s watching you.

You move with grace, carefulness, purpose. Even when you just walk, you’re always walking as if you know where you’re going, what you’re doing. You traveled around a portion of downtown, going to your little niches to collect the notes hidden away there. He could feel the air of confidence radiating off of you. He smiled and wondered how long that confident air would last when you realize that he caught you? Oh, maybe he should surprise you.

If only you were just a _little_ bit more careful. Gaster’s grateful you weren’t, of course. He grows tired of this game, and while he wants to end it as soon as possible, he wants to know everything he can possibly know about you before it’s over. Why?

It will make it all the more satisfying when you break and submit to him, of course.

You stop suddenly, looking thoughtful. He senses your soul shifting, trembling, then calming down. You glanced behind you, then turn and start walking, and Gaster follows.

…

…

…

With the notes tucked away into your pocket, you pat and brush what soot you can off yourself and enter a nice little restaurant. Not just any restaurant, but Papyrus’s. You were always careful to make sure you didn’t run into Papyrus while he worked—it helped to know someone working there that knew the schedules—but tonight you couldn’t care less. You were hungry but happy happy, and willing to risk running into Sans’s little brother for a nice plate of pasta.

People stare as you walk in. Considering you look like you just took a bath in coal, that’s hardly surprising. Promptly ignoring them, you step deeper into the restaurant and take a seat at the bar. A young man with dark braids and darker skin approaches you, giving you a big smile. You remember his face, but sadly his name escapes you.

“Hey there, beautiful. Hungry for some pasta?” He rests his forearm against the counter and looks over your face. “Or would you like a cloth, first?”

You raise a brow, giving the waiter—you steal a quick glance at his nametag and read the name Quinn—your best smile. “Do I look that bad?” You hold up a hand when he opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that, please. A cloth to wipe my face would be lovely. As for the food… feel free to surprise me, darlin’.”

Quinn shoots you a grin and a wink—it reminds you of Sans for some _completely unknown_ reason. Then he disappears into the kitchen. Through the little window where you can see the cook work, you see the face of a young man peek through it. Antony sees you, grins, and waves. You wink, waving back.

While you wait, you look over some of the notes left for you in your niches. All that was written on them were various places that were secluded away from prying eyes, and certain time to be there. A day from now, couple days from now, shit like that. Your true job would be revealed when you got there. But you liked looking at where your lovely little clients wanted to meet you. Some meeting places were simple, others were rather… suspicious.

The Void Family wasn’t the only Family after you, after all. And it’s only recently the others started trying to catch you using that method. Not like it ever worked, anyway. You hate to admit it, but at least the Void Family had more style and grace and knew when to _take a damn break_ from using your own system against you.

Quinn returns and you stuff the notes away. He gives you a wet cloth, that you take with a smile and start wiping your face and hands. “Your food’ll be ready soon, love. Want somethin’ to drink while you wait?”

“Got some root beer, darlin’?” He nods and turns away to get you a drink. You take that chance to finish wiping off your face and hands, getting as much soot off as you can. He returns and trades you the cloth for your bottle of root beer. You sip your drink, glancing around and watching the patrons idly chat about their lives.

You glance over at Quinn as he returns with a plate of pasta, placing it in front of you. “Here you are, beautiful.” He tilts his head at you. “Hey, now that you don’t got all that soot, I can tell you’ve been here before.” He looked thoughtful, then snaps his fingers. “Shirley was the name! Right?”

“And now I feel like an ass for not remembering your name.” You laugh. “I’ve only a few times, sadly.” You eat some of the pasta. By the stars, it’s just as good as you remember. The magic within the food made your taste buds tingle and sing with joy. You finish chewing and wipe your mouth with a new, clean napkin. “I’m busy with work, so I can’t come by much, which breaks my heart because this pasta is too good for words.”

Quinn laughs, “Good to hear! Antony and Dante are damn good cooks, but my boss is top notch. And if you’re lucky one day he’ll actually make a plate for you. Trust me, you’ll want him cookin’ for you for the rest of your days.”

You giggle, “I believe it. I hope one day the stars align just right so I might meet him while he’s here. For now, I’m more than content with this delicious plate before me.”

“I’ll be sure to tell the cook those exact words, beautiful.” Quinn steps away when a patron calls his name. You eat the pasta, reveling in the wonderful feeling it gave you.

And that’s when you felt it. Eyes on you. Who the hell is trying to bother you now? You were way too content, too happy that you get to work soon, to want to deal with some asshole right now. You glance to the side, ready to verbally destroy whoever’s eying you up.

Then you see him. Your glare turns into one of shock, then confusion, then settles back into a less heated glare. He’s looking right at you, sockets half closed, a charming smile playing his features. You raise a brow at him, then turn away and continue eating.

Well, tonight just got _a lot_ more interesting.

He slides into the seat next to you and rests his chin in his hand. **[Well, well, what have we here?]** He asks. His voice sounds almost like a phone on the fritz, but the words still fall smoothly from his mouth. **[To think I have never met a** **_lovely little human_ ** **such as yourself just baffles me. This simply must be rectified, no?]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so good at ending chapters sometimes and by that I mean I SUCK *sob*
> 
> BUT OMG TINKER AND SOAP ARE SUCH DORKS OKAY I LOVE THEM.


	5. Update

Just wanted to let you guys know that things seemed to have calmed down with the family for the time being, which is nice. Meaning slowly but surely I'll be able to get back to work on the fics as well as focus more on school again.

On and off I've been working on the newest chapter to That Would Be Enough and planning out the newest chapter for this one as well, but it'll still be a bit before the chapters are posed because while things seemed to have calmed down, they're still a little rocky. I know this whole thing lasted for like just a week, and honestly I'm glad it was  _only_ a week because it definitely could've lasted longer. I'm glad it didn't.

As always, your patience and support is greatly appreciated, and thank you all for your kind comments. We'll get back on track hopefully within the next week or two! ;v;


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